


alike

by rhythmicroman



Series: sucks to be us [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Canon, Biting, Blood, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Joker being Joker, M/M, Mild Blood, Poison, Poisoning, Prompt Fic, Tumblr Prompt, batman is a cocky jerk, it doesn't HAPPEN but it's MENTIONED, please read the notes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 14:47:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14287230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rhythmicroman/pseuds/rhythmicroman
Summary: Part 1: Prompt 46. “Shut up, I am a delight!”Part 2: Prompt 49. “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself.”'Parts' are separated by line breaks.Bruce has an unfortunate encounter with the Joker, which results in an... interesting, conversation.





	alike

**Author's Note:**

> ON THE JOKER'S CHARACTERISATION:  
> \- This specific version of the Joker is my own version, so he's kinda a clusterfuck.  
> \- I was given these prompts on tumblr, so blame tumblr. (feel free to yell abt this to me at @jack-napiers!)  
> \- This follows my own canon (which I have yet to write anything else for), but feel free to imagine your favourite versions of the characters in the place of mine (though remember that their physical descriptions won't match).
> 
> The chapters may feel a little disconnected at times, which is probably because I wrote them 3 days apart. Whoops.  
> (P.S. when Joker says "the Dents", he means "Two-Face". Harvey and Harv are treated as separate people sharing the same body.)

“Oh, shut up, Batsy – I am a delight!”

Bruce grunted, struggling against the rope around his wrists. Joker eyed him up and down, clicking his tongue in thought.

“Really?” Bruce’s gravelly voice rang out, “All I see is a villain. You deserve to go back to Arkham, and you _know_ _it.”_

Joker sighed, running one gloved hand through his hair, dripping wet from the rain. “Oh, Bats, and we were getting along so _well.”_

He waved his hand in Batman’s general direction, turning towards the wall opposite him. The thug beside Bruce rammed the barrel of his gun into Bruce’s cheekbone, laughing as he grunted in pain.

“Careful, dummy!” Harley yelled from afar, mallet in hand, “we want him conscious.”

“I want _him_ quiet,” Bruce muttered, earning another hit to the head.

Joker sighed again, running his hand down his face. “I figured,” he waved his hand in thought, “I figured you’d cooperate more, if I gave ya my venom in your veins. But so far, you’re just getting ruder. So far, you don’t cooperate.”

“So far,” he growled, “And forever.”

The thug went to hit him again. Joker raised one hand to stop him mid-movement, stepping quickly towards Bruce.

“No, no, you don’t get it,” Joker licked his lips, crouching to be on eye-level with the kneeling vigilante, “that wasn’t my only plan. Just the one that was easier to stomach.”

He lowered himself down to his knees – crawling closer to Bruce, damn near sitting on his lap – and leaned forwards, hands against Bruce’s chest. Bruce squirmed, head pressed against the concrete wall.

“Don’t,” he wheezed, “don’t-“

Joker blinked. “Oh, Jesus, Batsy. I’m not gonna…” he gestured at Batsy’s lips, and then his crotch, grimacing. “I’m bad, but not that bad, good god.”

Bruce breathed, sitting up straighter. “Then what are you going-“

Suddenly, Joker threw himself forwards, latching onto Bruce’s shoulder and biting as hard as possible. It was quick, and messy, and not at all romantic – though the faint pink tint to the clown’s cheeks sure made it seem like it was.

Bruce groaned, fire burning in his veins as the venom strengthened. His heart raced, and he found himself gasping for air.

Joker quickly recovered from his own stupor, running his hand down Bruce’s cowl and rubbing his thumb against his cheekbone, wincing in sympathy. “Oh, I know, I _know._ It hurts. You’ll get better soon, I promise.”

“Mr J,” Harley exclaimed, waving her mallet, “the boy blunders are comin. We gotta run, ‘nless ya feel like fightin em.”

He sighed, running his hands through his hair again. “Alright. Be a good boy, Batsy, and don’t go fighting any other guys whilst I’m gone!”

He rose to his feet, climbing with Harley and the thug into the back of their stolen pick-up truck. Harley thumped against its wall with her mallet, and the henchmen inside wasted no time getting them out of there.

When the batkids arrived on the scene, all they found was Bruce, wheezing and clutching at a bloody mark on his exposed shoulder.

* * *

 

“I am _nothing_ like you,” Batman breathed.

It was raining again – harder this time – and Joker was leaning against the side of a building, panting. They’d been fighting for a good 10 minutes, and the makeup on his face ended up being horribly smeared, white paint washing off to show faded scars and bruises.

His hands, scraped at the knuckles and bloodied at the fingers, reached up to wipe at his eyes. His gloves had long since became scrap on the ground, the sharp edges of Batman’s gauntlets slicing effortlessly through his sleeves. There were bloody lines down his forearms and scrapes on his knees from the brutish technique Batman had adopted in the struggle.

“It sounds,” he wheezed out in a laugh, “like you’re tryin’a convince yourself, Bats.”

Batman said nothing in response, only breathing. Gaps in the fabric of his suit showed bloodied skin beneath, and a small section of his cowl had broken off. His gauntlets’ edges were tinted slightly crimson from his carelessness, and his fingers had traces of makeup amidst the dirt and fresh blood. The clown had ripped his cape from one shoulder in the chaos.

The Joker reached out carefully with one hand, taking Batman’s much bigger one. Raising the gloved appendage up to eye-level, he laughed, running his thumbs across the dirty surface, smearing it into a dull grey mess.

“If we weren’t so similar, you’d have given up by now,” he licked his dry lips, still staring at the mess, “‘Cause, if you think about it, we’re the only freaks in costumes tonight.”

“Penguin,” Batman interjected, “and Two-Face, and-“

“I’m dressed like a clown, and you’re dressed like a bat.” Joker deadpanned, dropping the hand and steadying himself on the wall. “Ozzy and the Dents wear suits, as obscure as their 'personal style' may be. A half-n-half suit is still a suit, Bats, but a bat costume is a bat costume no matter _how_ you look at it.”

Batman grunted, glancing down at the bat symbol on his chest, then back up at the Joker’s face. Even without the makeup, he was almost scarily pale (assumedly from months in Arkham), with wide, wild eyes and a smile so big it threatened to cut his face in two. The scars on either side of his mouth were much smaller without the red accentuating them. His hair fell in front of his eyes, messy and wet, a strange green-gold tint now that most of the colour was gone.

“Then why the venom?” he asked finally. “Why attempt to change me if we were already so alike?”

Joker laughed – a sudden, wavering laugh, almost uncertain in tone, which increased slowly in volume. It didn’t take long for it to turn maniacal and toxic.

“Because,” he wheezed behind his laughter, “because all it’ll take – to make you and I identical – is a little, little push, and then it’s bye-bye-Batsy.”

Batman blinked. “What?”

“I wanted to be the first one to get to you,” he barely contained another laugh, “the first one to make you feel that… that burn. And I did it. And now…”

He pushed himself off the wall, onto his own two feet, and placed his pale palms against Batman’s broad chest, tapping against the fabric with his long fingers, standing as tall as he could manage.

“Now we’re closer than any of them, Batsy, closer than they’ll ever know.”

Behind Batman, sirens whirred. A GCPD car pulled up a street away, its inhabitant emerging with a loaded gun in hand. He found himself covering the Joker’s hands with his, gripping them tightly, and holding him in place until the cop could take him in.

“We may both be freaks, Joker,” he growled, “but you and I were _never_ alike.”

The cop finally got within an arm’s reach of Batman. He turned and shoved the Joker backwards into the cop, watching him struggle against the cop’s unwavering grip.

As they turned and made their way to the car, Joker let out another laugh, one that echoed throughout the streets and sent chills down Batman’s spine. It was sick and bitter, dripping with toxicity.

Joker looked back over his shoulder, grinning. “Whatever helps ya sleep at night, Bats.”

The car door slammed shut, leaving Bruce in the silence.


End file.
